


The Fates of All

by Dalastjedi



Series: Tales of Three Destinies [3]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Ahamkara (Destiny) - Freeform, Anthology, Destiny Legends, Fallen | Eliksni, Hive (Destiny) - Freeform, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The Last City (Destiny), The Red War (Destiny), Vex (Destiny) - Freeform, thanatonauts, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25894375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalastjedi/pseuds/Dalastjedi
Summary: The companion anthology to 'A Tale of Three Destinies', filled with 30 different stories based on writing prompts. Features characters both familiar and new that explore different facets of the Destiny Universe and of things to come.
Series: Tales of Three Destinies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1039538
Kudos: 1





	1. Prompt 28 - End of The Road

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: If you're coming here from the author's note on Chapter 9 of 'Echo of Nothing' you can probably skip this. Otherwise this anthology will just be something I experiment about with in between writing or when I feel like it. All prompts were provided by the Creation Station Clan and each story will be titled after its respective prompt.
> 
> While most of these will be one-shot short stories, please do let me know what you like. Everything you see is loosely based on a larger story I shoved in the back of my mind, so if you want to see more of a particular character or story I'd be happy to oblige.
> 
> Also, the chapters will be uploaded in no particular order, so expect a bit of story shuffling as time goes on.

The sun offered only a cold light this far north, an overcast blocking out any true warmth that it might have to offer.

Instead, Niyaku relied on the warmth of his armour’s thermal underlay as he sat wedged between a rock and the cold, dry dirt – sniper rifle propped up and pressed against his face. He was waiting just outside an old aeronautics building in Old Quebec, further north of the North American Empire. His sights had been fixed on the entrance to the building for the past hour and a half, waiting for the chance to shoot.

Sitting still for so long was taking its toll on the Hunter. Patience was not a common virtue among Icarus Drifters, but Niyaku had spent the last three and a half weeks tracking his target.

He reasoned with himself that a few hours were nothing in the face of hunting the same prey for nearly a month.

_Besides,_ he thought to himself. _This is a great vantage point._

It was necessary to trap such an elusive prey. Instead of searching about the aeronautics lab like a fox digging out its prey, Niyaku had laid a number of traps and resolved to finish this not with a chase, but with a single, fatal strike. He let his anger, his hatred, his sheer desire to put a bullet right through this bastard’s eye steel his focus into waiting as still as possible.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to wait much longer. A figure in forest-green robes strode and a bundle of Golden-Age scrap under one arm strode out of the entrance to the building. The man – a Warlock – held a clear prism between his fingers up towards the sun as he walked over piles of rubble without a care in the world with a gleeful smile on his face.

_Don’t worry, Koshinuke, I’ll change that for you in a moment_ , Niyaku thought to himself as he angled his aim towards the Warlock’s neck.

The shot wasn’t right yet, but at the pace the Warlock meandered at, it would only be a few more seconds until…

Suddenly, the Warlock froze in place, his eyes rapidly glancing about as he tucked the prism into a pocket. Tensing immediately, Niyaku rushed to line the shot up with the Warlock’s neck. His hands moved too fast, however, firing just a fraction of a second too quickly.

Instead of meeting its intended target, the round from the rifle pierced the collar of the man’s robes as he leaned in the opposite direction of the bullet. The Warlock looked like he would have jumped out of his skin if he could as he dropped his armful of salvage and made a dash for the forest.

“ _Kuso_!” The Hunter swore as he fired off another two shots in rapid succession. One managed to pierce the Warlock’s left palm as he ran, but it only served to stagger him briefly. Cursing his luck, Niyaku abandoned the sniper rifle in favour of a Pulse Rifle as he sprinted after the man.

Two bursts from the rifle followed the Warlock into the treeline, forcing him to hop and skip into a Blink to get away. Niyaku grinned, however, when he saw that the Warlock had played directly into his trap.

Standing at the edge of the treeline, he watched for disturbances in the underbrush that gave away the Warlock’s position. When he had reached a far enough distance, Niyaku withdrew a detonator from his belt and thumbed the trigger.

Suddenly, the forest was alive with high-pitched whines as small, portable launchers cobbled together from scraps of Fallen equipment sprung up and fired a volley of probes into the air. The whines turned to wails as each probe sailed towards the Warlock, tracking his heat signature before detonating in massive explosions one after the other.

Niyaku shielded his eyes as each mortar round went off, rattling the forest with each blast. He stood by the treeline until the explosions stopped. “Tesk, tell me we got him.” He spoke to his Ghost.

There was a brief pause before the Spark replied. “No revive signatures detected. I think we missed.”

“Damnit!” He growled as he took off after the trail of destruction. “Alright, we’ve got no choice but to lead him to the cliff.”

It took a while, but Niyaku was able to spot the Warlock just as he disappeared into a patch of tall shrubbery. Niyaku was the faster runner, however, and was better coordinated when it came to crossing wild terrain.

It was only a matter of time until he saw a blur of green flit through a clearing, and he was on the man’s trail like a hawk. However, it seemed the Warlock also had a few tricks up his robes.

Holographic decoys, concussion mines and gravity sinks were all used to try and distract the Hunter. Niyaku almost lost sight of him more than once, but he always managed to find the Warlock again. The Hunter took each chance he got to fire a couple rounds from his rifle whenever he had a clear line of sight on the Warlock, but he never did enough damage to bring the Guardian down.

It hardly mattered, however, as the two left the thicket behind and crossed a wide, open salt plateau.

The Warlock followed the length of the plateau until he came to the edge of a pointed cliff, skidding to a stop just before its end. Below him was a sheer drop to the valley beneath – one he most certainly wouldn’t survive the first time.

He made to search for another means of escape, but the second he spun around a burst of bullets struck the ground at his feet. The Warlock hopped and skipped on the spot to avoid the spray of dirt and any stray ricochet before freezing as the Hunter levelled his rifle on him.

“You know, for a Thanatonaut, you seem very difficult to kill.” Niyaku called out, his voice thick with emotion.

“Niyaku,” the Warlock greeted, raising both hands in surrender. “I think that has more to do with my oncoming means of death more than any-”

“End of the road, Horace!” Niyaku yelled across the distance, interrupting the man. “Nowhere left to run – nowhere left to hide.”

“Ni, just take it easy-” Horace said in reply, only to get cut off when a bullet whizzed by his injured hand.

“You don’t get to talk after what you did to my Fireteam – my friends!” Niyaku spat as he stalked closer to his cornered prey.

“Look, I know you’re upset, but you have to believe me: I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

“But you _knew_!” Niyaku shot back. “You _knew_ that beacon would attract the Fallen. You _knew_ the structure was unstable. You _knew_ there was an escape route and you didn’t warn us of _anything_!”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted it to happen,” Horace lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened, but I don’t have time to waste trying to appeal to your sense of justice.”

“There is not enough penance in a hundred lifetimes to atone for what you have done.”

“Exactly! Don’t you see you’re getting emotional about this?” Horace began, sounding extremely affronted. “Instead of letting me continue my merry research in relative peace, you had to waste both of our time by dogging me for-- what, a month now? Two months?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Niyaku growled as he got close enough to nuzzle the barrel of his rifle against the other man’s neck. “My whole Fireteam is dead – for good. They are not coming back and it is all. Because. Of you!”

“Better them, than us.” Horace replied, resolve hard in his eyes.

The Hunter was taken aback by Horace’s indifference, surprised that even a Warlock such as him could think so little of other Guardians. That surprise quickly turned to rage. “It would’ve saved a lot of people a lot of suffering if you just hadn’t been born.” He hissed.

“It would’ve saved _us all_ a lot of suffering if the universe hadn’t been born – but you don’t see me going after it with a gun!” Horace sighed as he lowered his arms. “Look, Ni-- I’m tired of this. I haven’t been back to The Tower in two weeks. I slept out of an old, radioactive bus last night, for crying out loud! I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve died in my sleep because of the places out here,” the Warlock rambled. “I’m hungry, I haven’t shat in ten days or showered in twenty-two, so if you want to kill me that bad, then just get it over with.”

A look of surprise crossed the Hunter’s face before it hardened once more. “Since you asked-”

“But!” Horace interjected quickly. “If you do, you could be costing many more Guardians their final deaths.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it’s a probability,” Horace corrected, which – judging by the way Niyaku dug the barrel harder into the Warlock’s face – was not the answer he wanted. “Alright, fine. You asked me a while back what my ‘big project’ was all about.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell us.”

“I said _couldn’t_ , not _wouldn’t_. I had to be sure it was possible before I started handing out hope.”

Niyaku waited a second before grunting impatiently. “And?”

A manic, excited look crossed the Warlock’s features. “I can dodge death.”

“What?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what’s going through your head right now. ‘What’s this crazy Thanatonaut talking about? He’s not making any sense,’ but let me just ask one question; you wanna know how I knew you were up on that ridge with a rifle trained on me? Or how I dodged all your heat-seeking mortar rounds?”

Niyaku’s eyes widened in surprise. He had chalked up the Thanatonaut’s survival to sheer luck. Only now did he remember that there was no such thing when it came to the Warlock.

“My Ghost told me.” Horace continued when Niyaku’s silence dragged on.

“So your Ghost had a sensor upgrade,” the Hunter shook his head when he realised his presence of mind had slipped. “That’s not-”

“Not just _any_ sensor upgrade,” Horace interrupted. “I’ve equipped my Ghost with the means to sense impending death.” He whispered proudly.

“Your Ghost can sense death? What does that even mean?”

“If I tried explaining it to you now, we’ll be on this cliff until the sun sets with that barrel of yours still uncomfortably jammed in my face,” Horace quipped with a grimace. “All you need to know is that I am now two steps ahead of death, and so can _every_ Guardian in the system.”

Niyaku considered this for a moment before drawing his Pulse Rifle back enough that it wasn’t jammed up against the Warlock anymore. “Still won’t save you if I decide to shoot you and your Ghost from here.”

“No, I’m certain it wouldn’t, but consider this,” Horace proposed, hardly fazed by the threat. “If I can outwit death – if _Guardians_ could outwit death, how many more Fireteams do you think that could save, hm?” he asked, as if giving a lecture to a group of scholars. “We dance before the jaws of death every moment of our lives, and I’ve just found a way to _know_ when those jaws will snap shut – and how to avoid them.”

“You still can’t bring back my friends.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Nothing can, but if I die, this dies with me. Then their deaths would have truly been for nothing.”

Niyaku stopped to consider this for a moment; rage, grief and curiosity battled in the forefront of his mind. This was the reason he had left his duties behind at the City, absconded with what few resources he could with the help of what few friends he still had. Here was the reason he defied direct orders and ventured into the wilds seeking vengeance.

Here was the reason his life hand fallen to pieces; defenceless, culled, and – frustratingly enough – ready to bite the bullet. All he had to do to make things right was to pull the trigger.

So why was that so hard?

Niyaku knew why, because that would also mean the end of his path. The path he chose started the day he left behind everything he once knew, and that path ended with this Guardian’s death. Niyaku could not imagine what kind of future awaited him beyond this – certainly not one in the City, not when the Vanguard had unanimously voted against hunting down a reckless, suicidal Thanatonaut who refused to fight unless in self-defence.

Here was the end, and it scared him more than anything.

But perhaps…there was more than one end to his path, and this was but the shorter one.

He played with the idea of simply pulling the trigger and calling an end to this for a moment longer before lowering his rifle. “ _Can_ it be replicated?”

A knowing smile spread across Horace’s face. “That’s what I was planning to find out.”

“Where?”

“Mars. Someplace called The Fathom Facility at the base of Olympus Mons.”

Taking another step back, Niyaku slung his weapon over his back and took a second to regard the Warlock before roughly grabbing him by the scruff of his robes. Twisting his fistful of cloth, he spun them about so that the Hunter was standing by the cliff edge. “If I find out you’re lying…”

“What? You expect me just roll over and take whatever violent slaughter you have planned?” he asked with a chuckle. “No. If you want to kill me, I won’t hold it against you, but I won’t make it easy.”

“I look forward to it.” Niyaku hissed before tossing the Warlock backwards. “How do we get to Mars?”

“I have a jumpship hidden away in the ruins a few ways back,” Horace noted, pointing in the direction of a ruined settlement he passed not long ago. “If we start walking now, we’ll make it there by-”

“You think I’m actually going to let you fly? By yourself? Out of my sight?” Niyaku asked rhetorically. “We’ll take my jumpship.”

“Fine, just let me go get my haul from the lab. Y’know,” Horace shot an annoyed look over his shoulder as he walked. “The one you made me drop when you shot me? It’s probably contaminated at this point anyway.”

“One more thing,” Niyaku called out before quickly drawing his sidearm, firing as soon as he had his sights lined up with the back of Horace’s knee.

In a flash of movement faster than the Hunter could blink, Horace twisted his leg out of the way of the bullet, spinning about to transition into a cocky jig.

The Hunter could only stare slack-jawed at the inhuman reaction time the Warlock displayed. “But…how did you-”

“I told you, my Ghost told me,” Horace replied as he struck a pose. “But that’s the how. If you wanna know the why, I’ll have to show it to you.”

He watched Horace walk back towards the treeline of the smouldering forest before following. Niyaku barely made it two steps before he felt a force in his mind compel him to stop.

“Are you sure about this, Ni?” his Ghost asked him. “You might never get another chance if you let him go now.”

“Maybe,” his eyes trailed after the faint outline of the Warlock through the trees. “But everything he’s shown us…he might be on to something. Maybe something that can buy us back into the City, should we choose to.”

“I really don’t get you sometimes,” Tesk remarked as Niyaku felt the Ghost roll his eye. “First you get us kicked out of The Tower chasing this guy, now you want to work with him? I knew you were obsessed before, but now…I don’t know what this is.”

Removing the clip from his sidearm, the Hunter turned to hold the metal case over the edge of the cliff for a second before releasing it, like he always did at the end of every battle.

“This is a new beginning, Tesk.” He replied, holstering his sidearm.


	2. Prompt 15: Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Titan is questioned by a member of the Praxic Order on where her true loyalties lie.

The moment Freda saw who walked through the door, she wanted to groan out loud. Recognising the man immediately, she knew she was in for a long, annoying questioning.

“Freda Calips,” the dark-skinned Warlock said, by way of greeting, as he walked up to the table with a folder in his black gloved hands. He looked to be about Freda’s ‘age’, though the stress lines and wrinkles in his forehead led credence to the theory that stress made Guardians age. His short, curly hair stood just a few inches tall and he was dressed in black and bronze combat robes.

He shut the door behind him with the heel of his boot before pulling out the chair opposite the Titan. “Earthborn Awoken. Former affiliate of both the First Pillar and the Order of the Lost Saint. First resurrected on the banks of the Red Floodlands and trained in over eight different martial disciplines under various Titan mentors. Official records state that you’ve taken part in over three dozen Strikes, with an impressive Crucible record to boot.”

“So, you’ve read my file,” she said without any interest as she did a mock-jazz hands. “Good for you.”

Dropping into the chair, the Warlock turned the folder so that it faced the Titan and rested halfway between them before interlocking his fingers. “I assume you know who I am?”

She chanced a glance at the folder and sure enough, the first file had her name printed out on its tab. Freda let out a humourless huff. “You’re Solomon Hex, The Praxic Book Club’s Inquisitor,” she rested her jaw against her knuckles, leaning on one arm she glanced up at the Warlock. “The Bloodhound.”

“Flattered,” He chuckled, before his expression shifted into a stone-cold frown. “Then you know I did more than just read your dossier, Freda.”

“Calips, please,” She interjected. “Only my friends call me Freda.”

“…As you wish, Calips,” he conceded. “I suppose you also know why you’re here right now?”

“We’re here because you Praxic Nerds thought interrogating a fellow Guardian would be a good use of everyone’s time today.” She shot back casually.

“That’s one way to put it,” he agreed in a flat, nonchalant tone as he took his time opening and spreading out the files in the folder. “Though, I’d say given the circumstances, this course of action is both favourable to you and necessary to us. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Freda needed a moment to think on Hex’s words. She sensed the loaded question a second too late and couldn’t come up with a response that would deflect the subject. “Umm, no?”

“Really?” Hex’s voice was laced with sarcasm as he raised an eyebrow. His Ghost floated over to project an arrangement of holographic files onto the table. “A Defender loyal to the Forces of The City for the past three decades, suddenly exposed as a traitor who’s been aiding our enemy for months. I don’t think I need to inform you of what the Vanguard thinks of traitors, let alone some of the more zealous Guardians we keep in our company.”

This time, Freda stayed silent – waiting to see where this conversation was going and what exactly Hex was trying to get out of her.

“Given your intensive battle record and spotless track against the Eliksni threat, many of my colleagues surmised you had simply defected; perhaps due to growing frustration with Vanguard leadership or out of resentment towards other Guardians. Do not try to refute me, Miss Calips, I did my research. Your history of post-Crucible violence complaints speaks for themself. As it stands, your charges for stealing, smuggling, embellishing your reports and conspiring against The Vanguard could amount to as few as fifty years in confinement, with the possibility of exile also on the table,” he paused to take a deep breath and steady his nerves. “So, I’m only going to give you one chance to explain yourself.”

Taking a moment to digest everything she was told, Freda quickly realised how much hot water she was in. Hex’s reputation preceded him; the Warlock was every bit the detective and interrogator Freda had heard about, which meant that one wrong word – one bit of information the Warlock didn’t already had – could doom her.

Without much of a choice left, the Awoken took a moment to organise her thoughts before beginning with the statement she had been practicing ever since the Vanguard threw her in the interrogation chamber. “The Fallen are not our enemies.”

She gave the Warlock a second to shoot off some kind of sharp remark or long, biting lecture about everything she already knew. Instead, Hex simply spun one of his wrists in a beckoning motion. “Go on.”

Seeing an opportunity, Freda continued with the defence she had put together. “The Vanguard only chooses to see The Fallen as a threat to the City. It’s true that they’ve been an enemy of Humanity since the get-go, but times have changed.

“We’ve broken the Fallen at every step of the way since Twilight Gap. Hell, it’s gotten to the point that they’ve had to restructure their society from the ground-up, just so we can’t predict what they’re gonna do next. Every day, we kick them to the curb and every day they find some new way to adapt and become harder to kill. But they’re running out of chances, and someday soon they won’t be able to recover past a point of no return. They’re gonna go extinct.”

“That’s the idea.”

“It’s not right,” she was vehement about her point. “We weren’t so different from them a couple centuries ago; they’re just doing what they have to in order to survive – just like us.”

“Survive is an understatement,” Hex shot back. “The Fallen have infest our worlds like a plague. They steal our natural resources, murder and pillage helpless human settlements, not to mention constantly seeking new ways to kill Guardians.”

“And we don’t do the same to them?” Freda countered. “They’ve been running from extinction for so long that it’s all they know how to do. Even if they wanted to leave, they don’t have the resources to go anywhere else. We might be giving them hell in this system but like it or not, this hell is their home, too.”

“Is that your stance?” the Warlock hissed, waving his Ghost over. “You suggest we share our worlds with a race of marauders and pirates? Let up our side of the attrition so they can push back? Treat them as equals despite their constant refusal for a diplomatic solution? You’ve been fighting them for decades. Why risk everything now to change sides?”

“I don’t expect everyone to understand, but if we continue on this path, we’ll be driving the Fallen to extinction. We’re not in the right to condemn an entire race to death.”

“I can understand not wanting to fight the Fallen anymore, Calips. But what you did,” with a twitch of his finger, the Ghost projected a new set of files on the table. Images of Freda and several unmarked crates standing across from an approaching group of Fallen. “Is tantamount to treason.”

“Those supplies belong to me!” she yelled, slamming her open palm against the table. “I gathered most of them myself!”

“Under Vanguard supervision, using Vanguard equipment on Vanguard-sanctioned operations. That makes those supplies Vanguard property,” he paused, inhaling deeply before firing off another question. “Have you been to The City lately?”

Wary of where this conversation was headed, Freda hesitantly nodded her head. “Yes. Once or twice to help oversee the restoration plans, a couple other times to-”

“Then you know that several sectors of both the inner and outer districts are still in dire – pending repairs and requisition orders that the Vanguard cannot yet fulfil due to a lack of resources.” The Warlock interrupted. “Resources that the Vanguard is not in a position to donate due to ongoing repairs to the old Tower and sections of the wall,” he glared at Freda as he spoke. “Resources that Guardians like yourself are supposed to be gathering from the field.”

“You’re twisting the facts!” Freda snapped, growing frustrated with Hex’s attempts to incriminate her. “Most of the supplies in those crates were surplus junk: scraps and salvage from the Red War that we don’t even have a use for.”

“’Most’ being the key word here,” he countered, continuing before the Titan had a chance to retort. “So, you admit to smuggling supplies out of The City to give to our enemy of your own free will?”

“I never denied it,” she sneered back. “But I wasn’t running a donation; I was cutting deals.”

“We’re aware of your little arrangement between members of Vanguard Fieldcom. They’re being dealt with accordingly as we speak. I’m honestly a little disappointed at how little of an effort you made to cover your tracks,” Freda’s eyes widened, shocked by the revelation.

“Leave them out of this. They were only ever relaying the information I gave them,” She quickly stammered out in a panic. “T-they don’t even know where I get my intel from.”

“Until now, _we_ weren’t sure where you were getting your intel from. It’s really the only reason why we let you operate for as long as you did,” Hex replied, shrugging his shoulders. “The picture’s becoming clearer, though: you sell Vanguard supplies to your Fallen contacts in exchange for information on Cabal activity from Earth to The Reef.

“If that had been the extent of it, we might’ve been willing to let you operate under close observation. Maybe do you a few anonymous favours to…streamline the process, even. However, it was when we picked up on the pattern of the false information you were feeding to Fieldcom – information regarding Fallen movement that allowed entire convoys to slip by our patrols – that we had to draw a line.

“Now, this is the part where things get interesting. You see, the Praxic Order is a little divided over your case. Some of us believe you need to be suspended immediately – pending a full investigation to assess how deep your breach of information goes. Others, however, believe that you’re in a unique position that could help us identify other Guardians who have defected in the name of…less-than-noble causes in the wake of the Red War. We know that you’re not the first Guardian to breach the travel ban to The Reef, nor are you the first to make contact with certain…characters of interest there.”

Though Freda couldn’t be sure, she had a feeling she knew which fat, narcissistic Reef boss Hex was referring to. She couldn’t help the disgusted look that crossed her face at the prospect of working with the likes of him.

“Therefore, I’m going to make you a deal: if you submit a complete list of your Fallen and Reef contacts, as well as surrender to some…additional questioning, my allies within the Order will do whatever we can to ensure the charges against you are dropped.”

For a moment, Freda looked like she was considering the offer. Suddenly, she scoffed out a laugh that made Hex raise an eyebrow. “You want me to use my sources to get info on other rogue Guardians – mercs just looking to make easy Glimmer in The Reef? What then? You gonna send hit-squads after them?”

“Only if necessary.”

“Then let me reassure you here and now; it’s not necessary – and pointless. The people I do business with at The Reef don’t associate themselves with those kinds of Guardians. We’re only interested in the continued survival of our civilisations.”

“There you go again, thinking of the Fallen as ‘people’. I would’ve expected someone of your background to understand by now that while the Fallen do maintain certain traits from their civilised past, they are beyond redemption as a ‘people’.”

“Y’know, for a Warlock, you’re not very open-minded, are you?” Freda was impressed when Hex barely showed any reaction to the surprise barb, a twitch in his eyebrow the only indication that the words had affected him. “See, this is the problem with the Vanguard; you refuse the see the Fallen for what they could be, because you only see them as what they are.”

“What more could they be than what they are?”

“Potential allies,” she answered resolutely. “Like it or not, we’re in this fight for our lives together. The Fallen want to live as much as we do, which leaves us with one of two options. We can either waste resources that have better use elsewhere trying to exterminate them, or we can swallow our pride and start reaching out the olive branch. There _are_ Fallen out there that will join us if we offer it, ones that are tired of our war who understand that the universe is out to get both of us!”

Hex fell silent for a few seconds as his fingers drummed a beat against the table. He seemed to be considering something when his eyes met Freda’s in a cold stare. “This is your last chance. Take my offer or turn it down and be judged by the Praxic Court.”

This time, Freda leaned back in her seat and met the Warlock’s unflinching gaze with her own. “I’m not going to turn my back on those who need my help.”

“Helping the enemy,” Hex mused ruefully. “What do you think Saint-14 would say?”

“I’m not one of Saint’s devotees anymore,” she snapped. “To be honest, I don’t give two shits about what Saint would think. I’m doing this because I think it’s the right thing to do,” she paused. “And…to fulfil a promise.”

“A promise to your ‘contacts’?” Hex surmised. “To protect them from us? A thin veil of deception to keep your business going, surely.”

“No. I promised him I would see his new House rise to glory – not as a Fallen brigade or some criminal syndicate, but as Eliskni guardians of the system,” she glared at the Warlock across from her as spoke in the language of the land she was first risen. “ _So swears Freda Calips, Titan Sentinel, Daughter of the Traveller.”_

Hex’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he processed her words, before widening in shock. “You gave the Fallen a Titan’s Oath,” his voice was laced with an underlying current of disgust. “Perhaps you would like to explain to me what this Fallen did to earn the debt of a Guardian?”

“It’s not that complicated,” Freda couldn’t help but let the slightest trace of a smirk grace her lips. “They simply showed me how human the Eliksni truly are.”

She saw the muscles around Hex’s jaws briefly tighten before relaxing as he swept the files back into the folder, wedging it under his arm. “Alright, I’ve heard enough.”

“So, I’m free to go?” the Titan asked sarcastically.

“You will be, once I’ve passed my assessment on to the Order and they’ve dictated your punishment,” He rose out of his chair. “I really couldn’t say what that might entail – I’m usually not around for that part. I’m up to my neck in Praxic work these days.”

“Good on you, bud.”

He looked like he was about to turn and leave the room when Hex did a double-take, breathing in deeply before addressing Freda again. “I really am sorry it’s had to come to this. Contrary to popular belief I don’t actually enjoy interrogations.”

“I’m not-- sorry for what I did, I mean.”

“I had hoped that your case was just a matter of naïve ambition. I see now that I was wrong,” As he reached the door, Hex paused to glance over his shoulder at the Awoken. “If I were you, I’d take this time to consider if your devotion to this band of stray Fallen outweighs your duty as a Guardian.”

“Our duty is devotion, Solomon Hex.”

The Warlock shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe.” He was halfway out the door when Freda called out to him, once more in her native tongue.

“ _Devotion inspires bravery._ ”

The seconds passed as Hex stood in the middle of the doorway, one hand holding the door open as he turned to glance at the Titan with a neutral expression. “ _Bravery inspires sacrifice_.” He answered back in the same tongue.

With that, he was gone. Freda understood; he didn’t have to finish the mantra.

They both knew what would come next.


	3. Prompt 19 - Unbeaten Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman from The Farm is introduced to a secret that could prove vital to the future of The Last City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This one-shot is special, as it actually also acts as the prelude for another story idea I've been bouncing about for a while. So be sure to let me know what you think of it and whether you'd like to see more of it or not. It still has no working title that I like the sound of, so for now it'll only be known as Project: Bright Horizon.

Astra looked down at the piece of paper in her hands one more time before glancing up to make sure she had not mistaken the address. Before her was a small, prefabricated hut with no discernable features, other than its lack of windows. Judging by the shine of the walls, this building was a recent addition to the reclaimed land in the EDZ.

She could hardly believe that  _ this  _ was the meeting point of Suraya’s latest secret project.

She could scarcely believe she even came here at all.

A part of her still wished that it was all some kind of convoluted prank by her brothers, though how they got this hut here - or convinced Hawthorne to play along - was beyond her. The anticipation only grew when the number pad by the door accepted the six-digit code she had been given, disabling the door’s magnetic locks with a series of clicks.

Glancing over her shoulder one last time at the dirt path that led back to The Farm, Astra put one hand to the door handle and pushed it open as she walked in.

Her eyes widened in alarm before she was even completely past the threshold. Though her sight was still adjusting to the lower light, it was still clear enough to see the unmistakable forms of Fallen, skulking about the hut and seemingly unperturbed by her presence.

Acting purely on instinct, one hand went to her holstered sidearm as Astra drew on the closest Fallen she saw - her back to the doorway the whole time. Her mouth opened to shout some kind of warning, but was startled silent when a hand reached out from a blindspot to the right of the hut and grabbed her wrist.

Astra’s index finger reflexively squeezed off a shot just as the hand on her wrist lurched her arm up and away from the startled Vandal, the round leaving a small mark in the roof as a light dusting of debris rained down on her head.

“It would be wise for you to drop that gun.” a smooth, cold voice demanded as a second hand shot out to clamp down on the gun’s grip, preventing Astra from firing again. The grip on Astra’s wrist tightened like an iron vice as a thumb dug into a soft spot that made pain flash across Astra’s vision.

To her credit, the Human still kept a firm grip on her weapon as she glanced at her attacker. An Awoken woman with magenta hair in baggy, colourful robes stood by the edge of the shadow of the hut - likely how she went unnoticed when Astra walked in. The hand that gripped hers looked almost too small and thin to be holding her as hard as she did.

Still struggling for dominance over the weapon, Astra attempted to break the stalemate by striking out at the Awoken with her steel-tipped boot. Aiming for the Awoken’s pelvis, Astra let out a startled yelp as the Awoken dodged the strike and threw her to the ground in one swift motion.

Astra felt her breath leave her as soon as her back hit the steel floor. The first thing she noticed immediately after was that her gun was no longer in her hand. Glancing back up at the magenta-haired woman, she watched as the Awoken deftly removed the sidearm’s magazine and ejected the shot in the chamber with a swipe of her hand.

She had no time to feel angry, however, as Astra quickly noticed the Fallen creeping towards her from all sides. Her pulse beat like a drum in her ears as she scrambled to get some kind of footing or put more distance between her and the aliens, but everywhere she looked there was a Fallen waiting to flank her.

Just as the Human was certain one of them was going to pounce and begin gnawing her arm off, a metallic voice thundered in the small enclosure. “That’s enough!” Immediately, all the Fallen around her froze, turning their collective heads in the direction of the voice.

At the far end of the hut, standing behind a long table - with a Cabal Legionary to one side and Suraya Hawthorne on the other - was an Exo with a body painted in a black and purple pattern. He wore what looked to be battle armour emblazoned with the familiar orange and white insignia of the Vanguard.

“Tussles’ over. Everyone back to your station.” he ordered as the Fallen dispersed, reluctantly skulking back to various pieces of equipment along the edges of the hut. Moving around the metal table, the Exo walked over to where Astra still laid on the ground. He stopped before her, staring intently with his orange eyes before holding out one hand to his side. “Danis, the gun?”

With a sigh, the Awoken woman reluctantly placed the sidearm in the Exo’s outstretched hand. “I was attempting to defuse the situation. Pheris would be leaking Ether from a new hole in his head if I hadn’t.”

Astra took the unloaded weapon from the Exo’s offering hand but scrambled back to her feet as he held out a hand to help her. “Whoa, take it easy. Give me a moment to-”

“What the hell is going on here?!” Astra exclaimed in a high-pitched squeak. “Who are you people? What are  _ they  _ doing here?” she asked, gesturing animatedly at the nearby Fallen, who hissed and chittered back at her irately.

“The Fallen are here to help us map out our journey. And they mean you no harm.” the Exo continued to explain.

“And you expect me to actually buy that? After all they’ve done to us?”

“These Fallen are from a reformed House that has aided the Guardians many times in recent months. They’re looking to gain our trust and secure an alliance.”

“ _ They  _ can’t be trusted. The moment our guard’s down they’re going to stab us in the back, strip us of our valuables and chew on our guts until we’re nothing but bone.” Astra protested.

“As if I...would be wanting...to eat you,” a raspy hiss drew Astra’s attention to the Fallen she had nearly shot. “You...skinny...meat no flavour. Prefer...goose.”

Astra gawked at the Fallen as he stepped in a circle around her, moving to stand by the Exo’s side. “You speak?!”

“And understand...Not appreciate your insults...or that you be shooting...me.” The Fallen snarled to accentuate his words.

“Yeah? Well I don’t appreciate you being so close to my home.” Astra snapped back.

“Precisely why I didn’t want to tell you about the odd...additions to this mission,” Hawthorne added as she approached the gathering, with the Cabal in tow behind her. “You make a good marshal, Astra, but I didn’t want you leaking word about what’s going on out here for this exact reason.”

“Well a little head’s up would’ve been nice.” Astra felt the breath leave her throat as she stared up at the Cabal, realising she had never been this close to a live Legionary before.

Most of the times someone did, they didn’t survive to talk about it.

“Care to finally fill me in on what the deal is with...any of this - any of  _ you _ , for that matter?” Astra asked, feeling like she was on the verge of hysteria.

“It’s probably best if we talk by the table. Carve even prepared a handy presentation in case you freaked out.” Hawthorne gestured to the table as she stepped out of way to make room for Astra to pass first.

Astra reluctantly approached the table at the far end of the room, stopping as she passed by the Legionary to stare at it with a look of contempt. “What?” the Cabal growled out, causing Astra to flinch before resuming her walk at a quicker pace.

“You better have a good explanation for why that thing is here - along with all of... _ them _ .” Astra demanded as she rounded the table.

“ _ He  _ has a name, and it’s Duol,” The Awoken woman piqued up as she stopped on the opposite side of the table to Astra. “And you’d best show him some decorum, he’s on our side.”

“ _ Our side _ ?” Astra yelled incredulously. “His people blew up my home and massacred my friends. No way in bloody hell am I going to be on any side he’s on.”

The Legionary let out a barking grunt, taking a step closer to the table only to be stopped by a hand to his side from the Awoken woman. “His people, maybe, but not him. He’s defected - didn’t partake in the invasion of The Last City at all. He’s not even a member of the Red Legion.”

“Blind Legion, Martian detachment from years before,” Duol stated in a booming voice. “My legion was broken long ago. If I returned to the empire, it would be in shame and to face a dishonourable execution. I have spent many years since then, drudging through exile as I searched for a new purpose.”

“Then why are you wearing Red Legion armour?” Astra shot back.

Duol glanced down at his black and red cuirass and bracers. “Times are hard. Sometimes salvaging off your own dead gives you better chances of survival. Besides, Legion-forged armour makes better protection than rusted plates.”

“And how can I believe anything you tell me?”

“I am one footsoldier. My word is my own, but there is no grand army to my flank. I act alone. The Red Legion  _ never  _ acts alone.” Duol replied resolutely.

“You’ve already met Danis Roev, our resident Gensym Scribe,” the Exo - Carve - introduced. “I am called Carve-4, Vanguard Outpost Settlement and Logistics Officer. And you know Hawthrone.”

“Seeing as she’s the one that referred me to this circus…” the sharp look from Hawthorne told her that it would be in her best interest to drop that line of thought. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you’re the one in charge?”

“Both the Vanguard and Hawthorne have appointed me as leader of this expedition, so from a technical standpoint…” he shrugged his shoulders. “But I won’t be leading alone.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s probably best if we start from the beginning - again,” he turned to look at the settlement leader. “Hawthorne? You know what she knows, bring her up to speed for us?”

“That presentation of yours might come in handy after all,” Hawthorne muttered as she put both hands to the surface of the table, which began to change colour to a reflective black after a few seconds. “Alright, I’ll keep this simple - partly because I can’t bother remembering the whole story. Ever since that red tower showed up on the moon, the Guardians have been getting antsy. They believe that some...thing, is coming. They’re not entirely sure what  _ it  _ is yet, but the Vanguard is pretty sure about two things: it’s somewhere out in the space beyond the system, heading our way faster than we’d like in larger numbers than any of us would be comfortable with.”

“What’s the second thing?”

“These...entities, caused The Collapse.”

The implications of what Hawthorne was telling her fell over her mind like a tidal wave of fear. “That enemy of the Traveller the Speaker was always going on about? They’re  _ real _ ?!”

“Afraid so,” Carve-4 added. Placing one hand to the table, a white line trailed across the black surface towards Astra, where an image appeared before her. “Guardian strike teams responsible for pushing back the Hive found  _ this  _ at the centre of their resurgence, buried beneath the Lunar surface. It’s make is unlike anything we’ve seen before, but several Guardians have claimed to have seen it in visions.”

“It’s just been...waiting there this whole time?” Astra asked incredulously. “Why? What was it doing? Why hasn’t anyone made mention of this before?”

“There’s still a lot of questions we don’t have answers for, but from what we can gather this seems like just the beginning.”

“One of these ships alone is enough to manifest Darkness across your entire moon,” Danis commented, having stayed silent until now. “Even a trace of that Darkness was enough to throw my homeland into chaos. If the prophecies your Guardians have foreseen come to pass, there’s going to be a lot more of these things all over the system, and only so few of us.”

“But, the Guardians-”

“Aren’t going to be enough,” Hawthorne interrupted. “The City sustained too many losses during the Red War, and the Guardian ranks are more scattered than the Vanguard wants the public to believe. Between Gambit, the moon, that whole debacle with the Tangled Shore and Dreaming City, it’s hard to imagine the Guardians of Earth banding together to fight a common enemy - at least without fighting each other at the same time.”

“...So where does that leave us?”

“If half of the Consensus is to be believed, on the brink of another war. One we are vastly underprepared to fight.” Carve responded solemnly.

“Unfortunately for them, I’ve got no time for doomsayers  _ or  _ pointless board meetings, so I went ahead and found a few ways to improve our odds when this apocalypse comes rolling our way,” Hawthorne followed-up, making a sweeping gesture at everyone at the table. “That’s where you come in.”

Glancing about at the various faces around the table, Astra grew increasingly disconcerted. “You’re joking, right? You’re going to place the survival of Humanity on  _ us _ ?”

“Not on you alone. See, we’ve got assets and allies all over the system that either have no idea what’s coming our way, or aren’t being put to proper use,” a map of the solar system materialised on the table along with several images of objects both familiar and new to Astra. “Inactive Warmind installations, derelict, intact ships that drifted to the Kuiper Belt, unpaired Ghosts that ventured to the edges of the system on long-range reconnaissance missions - all valuable resources we could use to bolster our defences.”

“The Queen has also long been hiding valuable resource and weapon caches throughout the system, stockpiling fortifiable positions for a threat we were only made prvy of recently,” Danis added. “I know of a few of these locations - ones I’m sure the Queen wouldn’t miss if they were...plundered.”

“I thought the Awoken were fiercely loyal to Queen Sov,” Astra asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Isn’t telling us this kinda like treason?”

“Being here at all is tantamount to treason - at least as far as our Regent is concerned,” Danis corrected. “But, some of us have grown...doubtful of the Queen’s ultimate plan, knowing now how much she’s willing to give so that she may keep her throne by the end of this,” The white-knuckled grip the Scribe had on the table’s edge did not go unnoticed, but Astra didn’t mention it. “If saving my people means helping your kind to fight our shared foe, then it is a deal I will gladly make - tenfold.”

Her gaze flitted to the Cabal, and then the Fallen crew working in the background. “And what about them? What’s their stake in this?” Astra asked, making a dismissive gesture with a tilt of her chin.

“They’re in just as much danger as us,” Carve replied, gesturing to Duol with one hand. “This enemy we face, it doesn’t play favourites. All must either submit to it, or die.”

“My people might be willing to fight to their last or swear loyalty to a new god, but not me,” Duol explained, resting both hands on the table and causing it to tilt on his side. “I’m a survivor, and so are most of The Deserters. If we could, we’d do away with war entirely. For now, we’re just going to have to settle for the side that’s reluctant to wage it.”

“You’re Cabal - all you know is war,” Astra spat back, turning first to Carve then Hawthorne. “You can’t seriously be buying into this? They’ve been trying to wipe us out for hundreds of years, and now we’re just supposed to trust them? Why, because they suddenly want peace? Because they know they can’t win? You’re holding the door open for the wooden horse!”

“Astra, these Fallen and Duol’s deserters are being hunted by their own people - have been for about a year. They’ve been on a run for going against the chain of command and defying orders to engage City forces. Trust aside, we’ve got a common enemy and - like it or not - we need all the help we can get.” Hawthorne reasoned, matching the young woman’s fury with her own steel determination.

Eventually, Astra relented. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t thought it through.”

“Alright then,” she nodded. “Where do I come in, then?”

“Everyone you see here is going to be part of the crew for the odyssey-”

“Plus, one more Fallen. The crew are still deliberating who to send.” Danis interjected before Hawthorne could continue further.

“We have a ship souped-up and ready to lead a voyage to the edges of this system to recruit, reactivate or recover any allies or defences we can find, starting with the old Warmind installations. It won’t be easy and we’ll be dealing with a lot of unknowns heading out, so this is going to be a joint-operation between the Vanguard, The Farm, emissaries from the Reefborn Awoken, our allied Fallen House and a few reps from The Deserters.”

“It might just be the most ambitious project we’ve ever undertaken. With any luck, this could be the start of a new, powerful alliance built on the shared interest of preserving this system,” Carve continued, looking down with a solemn expression as he continued. “And hopefully start to mend a few old wounds.”

Astra began to understand where this was going as she nodded. “So you want me to take over your leadership position at The Farm while you’re searching the edge of known space for dusty old space relics. I don’t get why you couldn’t have just paged me, but alright.”

“Oh, I’m not the one joining the odyssey,” Hawthorne shook her head with a chuckle. “You are.”


End file.
